With shaking hands she unfolded the letter and did not dare to examine the contents.
“My dear Maria,” it began.
Temia did not need to read any further, for she only too clearly recognised the elegant handwriting. But what would she say to Sophia?
The girl sat opposite her with her large eyes looking up at Temia, waiting for some kind word and yet, what she was about to tell her could change her life for ever. How would she receive the news?
Taking a deep breath, at last, Temia spoke. Her voice trembled as she carefully folded the note.
“Sophia,” she said, “you may not believe me, but I have reason to believe that you and I are half-sisters!”
CHAPTER FIVE
“Sisters? How can that be?” cried Sophia, throwing her hands to her face. “I’ve dreamed of something like this happening, but now it has, I just don’t believe it!”
“This,” replied Temia, indicating the letter, “is my father’s hand. Furthermore, I must tell you that there have been rumours of a dalliance that resulted in a child. This was before I was born or Papa met Mama, of course. And now, seeing this letter, the mystery is solved.”
Sophia stared at Temia as if searching her face for clues to their shared parentage.
“I can scarcely believe it!” she repeated in shock. “You – my half-sister!”
“Did your mother never talk about your father?”
“Not a great deal. After he had paid for my birth, she cut off all contact with him. They were not in love and Mama said she knew he would never consider marrying her, as they were not of the same class. And by the time I was born, he had met your Mama.”
“Sophia, I feel so terrible! All those years – ”
“Temia,” she interrupted, “you won’t tell anyone how old I really am, will you? It’s just that Leo Baker likes us young and fresh. I’ve told him I’m twenty-two!”
“Your secret is safe, Sophia. After all, you are now nursing an even bigger one that involves me!”
The two girls sat in silence for a while and Temia noticed that Sophia was crying.
“What is it, Sophia?”
“To think – all these years and I had a half-sister!”
“And a half-brother! Sadly he is no longer with us. He was killed in the Crimea five years ago.”
“Oh! Dead before I knew him!”
“He was no more than a boy when he was killed, barely nineteen years old.”
“Terrible! Terrible! And your – our Papa?”
“He is alive and well. We own a large house in Northamptonshire and he breeds horses. It was a hobby that became more than that.”
“I dreamed my Papa was rich and handsome! Tell me more of him,” pleaded Sophia. “Is he tall? Does he ride in a magnificent carriage?”
Temia laughed and then chose her words carefully.
“He is all those and more. But circumstances don’t favour a meeting between you at present.”
“Oh, I would not ask for such a thing! It’s more than enough for me that I have met you! My sister!”
“Half-Sister. Your Mama – what did she die of?”
“TB,” answered Sophia, “it was awful how quickly it took her. I was lucky I didn’t catch it too. It must be my blue blood! I miss Mama dreadfully.”
“I understand. I miss Jasper. If I could speak with him or hear his voice one last time, I would not feel he was snatched away so suddenly.”
“Oh, but there is a way,” replied Sophia quietly.
Temia stared at her.
“How can there be? You can’t speak to the dead!”
“It is not as impossible as you think, Temia. If you have faith. I receive messages from Mama all the time or rather I go to a lady who does.”
“A lady who speaks to the dead?”
“Yes, she is a Mrs. Sebright and she’s a brilliant spiritualist. She has the power to contact the dead and passes on their messages.”
“But, this all sounds too incredible – if I thought I could speak to Jasper again, I would pay a lot for it!”
“Oh, Mrs. Sebright is very reasonable. She holds a circle once a month in Marylebone. Her next one’s in a few weeks’ time, why don’t you come with me, Temia?”
Temia stared at Sophia. She did not know what to think. It was all so incredible.
“Come, Sophia, it’s late. We must sleep – we shall talk more of this tomorrow.”
As she put her head on the pillow, Temia could not believe how eventful her day had been. ‘And now, this! A woman who claims to speak to the dead!’ she mused, as she slowly drifted off to sleep.
*
As soon as Temia arrived at the theatre the next day, Leo Baker took her to a massive new canvas.
“Do you think you can manage to do this in time for our opening at The Olympic Theatre?” he said, showing her a row of paint tins. “Hobson will bring you ladders and I can employ a boy to help you, if you need it.”
“When do you open at The Olympic?”
“In two weeks time.”
“If I work very hard and have some help, it will be ready,” answered Temia, rolling up her sleeves.
Taking her piece of charcoal and some paper that she had sectioned off into squares, she began to roughly sketch out a plan of the new scenery. She became so engrossed in what she was doing that she did not hear the doors to the auditorium open and so, when Sir Thomas Babbington called to her from the stalls, she jumped out of her skin.
“Oh, I am very sorry!” he said. “I did not wish to surprise you in that manner. Please accept my apologies.”
“Sir Thomas. What entices you here?” “If I have come at an inopportune time, then I shall leave at once,” he replied, putting on his top hat.
“No – I can work while we talk.”
“Excellent! I shall join you on stage then, as I have no wish to shout at you.”
As he appeared on the stage, a warm smile on his face, she found herself wishing that the Earl of Wentworth was with him.
“What brings you to the theatre, Sir Thomas, before a performance?” asked Temia. “It seems a pity to destroy one’s illusions by seeing it in daylight.”
“Can you not guess?” he asked with his blue eyes twinkling. “I came here because of you! I did not sleep a wink last night thinking of you and I wished to find out for myself if you are as beautiful at daytime as at night.
“And what do I find? You are a woman of many faces. You are fascinating, Temia – utterly enchanting!”
Temia blushed and tried hard to concentrate on her plan for the scenery.
“In addition I wonder what brought you here. You are not the type to be a showgirl. I know a lady when I see one and you, my dear, are a lady!”
“You flatter me,” replied Temia, turning to face the blank canvas in front of her. “I am nothing special.”
He moved towards her and stared into her face.
“You just cannot hide your true self from me, as real breeding will always come through, my dear.”
He grabbed her hand and examined it.
“As I suspected – not a day’s hard work has ever blighted this tiny hand,” he sighed, kissing it lightly.
Temia withdrew her hand as if it had been scalded.
“Sir Thomas – ” she breathed, turning scarlet.
“Come, you can trust me with your secret. What is it – you have run away from your Mama and Papa to avoid an unhappy alliance?”
Her shocked face told him all he needed to know.
“Ah, I thought as much. What was it – they wanted you to marry some old oaf to keep the family silver intact? Or was it a business deal to enrich your father?”
Temia’s eyes filled with tears. She looked into his kind face and immediately felt she could tell him everything.
“It is true. I have run away from an undesirable match, a hateful man whom I despise, but who is holding my father to ransom.
“The bounder! Who is this fiend? If I know him, I swear I shall go and
give the man a piece of my mind!”
“Lord Alphonse,” admitted Temia.
Sir Thomas threw his head back and sighed deeply.
“Oh, that brute! So, he’s up to his old tricks again. He should have had his fingers burned enough after the last time he attempted such fraud. Temia, you do know that the man has a wife?”
“I did not,” replied Temia aghast. “Then, what he is trying to do is illegal!”
“Exactly.”
“Why has this not come to light previously?”
“Lord Alphonse is a very powerful man – he is very effective at silencing all his opponents. The reason I found out about his crimes is that I rescued a servant of his, who had been beaten to within an inch of his life. I took him home and gradually helped him out of his predicament.”
“You mean he tried to kill his own servant?”
“Yes. The boy had discovered the existence of his wife, who is locked up in a lunatic asylum near London. Lord Alphonse had just announced an ‘engagement’ when the boy, whom he had ill-treated, threatened to go to the Police. In response he tried to kill him. When I found the poor lad, he was so frightened it was three weeks before he would even tell me his name.”
“The devil! He must be stopped!”
“As I said, Temia, he has friends in high places and does not think twice about resorting to violence to obtain what he wants. Did he threaten your father?”
“Not with violence, but blackmail. He discovered a family secret and threatened to spread it to ruin my father’s reputation.”
“Then, we must go at once to the Police and have him stopped!”
“No, please, I cannot,” pleaded Temia. “I don’t wish this to be dragged through the newspapers as it will only hurt Mama. It is best if we allow matters to rest. He will let them be now that I am no longer at home.”
“But you have run away from your family and all because of this bounder!” “Please – it is what I want.”
“Very well,” he answered, “but if you change your mind, then you must let me know. A woman on her own cannot take on this kind of brute without help. It is there if you wish it. Now, I ask if you will dine with me after the show tonight. Wentworth may join us, so I hope you will not mind. But do say you will, Temia.”
She hesitated.
“The Earl of Wentworth?” she asked him, as coolly as she could. Even so, just the mere mention of his name caused her heart to beat faster.
“Yes, I am afraid I have to keep my eye on him. He has not been himself since his father died and is prone to unfortunate outbursts that need a calming hand.”
“Then, I accept.” “And you will not mind if we are not alone?”
“Not at all,” replied Temia, smiling. “Now, I really must return to my work, if you will excuse me.”
He raised his hat and lifted her hand to his lips.
“Until this evening, then,” he sighed in a tone that left Temia in no doubt of his feelings for her.
*
After the show that evening, Temia found herself disappointed that the Earl did not make an appearance.
Sir Thomas explained, as they rode in his carriage to Claridge’s for supper, that he had a headache and so had remained at his London house.
“It's just as well as the last time we went there, he embroiled himself in a heated discussion about politics and we were asked to leave.”
“Is he a violent man?” she asked, keen to discover more about him.
“No, I would not say that. But his temper is on a hair trigger of late. It will cause him much harm one day.”
Temia enjoyed a delicious supper at Claridge’s and Sir Thomas drove her back to Mrs. Hook’s in his carriage. Ever the gentleman, he simply kissed her hand at the door and left, promising to see her the next evening.
*
The weeks whirled by and Temia found so much to occupy herself with at the theatre. At first Sophia had not asked her questions about her father, but later she enquired more about him. Temia was wise not to reveal the family’s real surname.
“Lord Morris – tell me more of him,” Sophia would say and somehow it did not feel as if it was her father they were talking about.
Sir Thomas regularly took her to dinner.
Sometimes Sophia would join them and make up a foursome and on these occasions, the Earl would sit in the corner, not saying much, but even so Temia could feel his eyes always on her and not Sophia.
She often tried to draw him into the conversation and, for a few moments, he would speak and, then, would fall silent and brooding once more.
“That Earl’s not too much fun,” remarked Sophia. “Perhaps he thinks too much of himself to bother with the likes of us!”
“No, it’s not that. His father died last year and he is still grieving.”
“Well, I don’t think I care to come to dinner again if he is going to be so difficult. Next time, ask Lily – she’d be thrilled to be seen out with a Lord.”
Upstairs in their room, Sophia helped Temia take off her dress.
“Temia, I am going to visit Mrs. Sebright tomorrow afternoon. Would you care to come with me?”
Temia paused. Though she was not entirely sure that she believed in the whole idea of spiritualism, she was intrigued by it.
And, if there was any method of conversing with Jasper, then, had she not said she would try it?
Sophia was eagerly awaiting an answer and finally, Temia relented.
“Very well, I will come with you.”
“Good, you will not be disappointed. Mrs. Sebright is a wonderful woman. I swear to God, the last time I was there, it was not her face I was looking at when Mama spoke to me through her – but my own dear Mama’s!”
Temia did not feel inclined to believe such notions, but she was still very keen to hear something from Jasper. So when, the next afternoon, Sophia took her in a Hackney cab to a house in Dover Street, in spite of herself, she suddenly felt distinctly nervous.
Sophia rang the bell as they waited on the doorstep.
A maid in a white cap opened the door.
“Have you ladies come for the seance?” she asked. “Please come this way.”
Temia did not know what she had expected, but the house seemed very ordinary inside.
They were shown into a back parlour with a large circular table in the centre. It looked very much as if it were about to be laid for tea and not a seance.
Presently, they were joined by two other ladies and then, an elderly gentleman and a younger man whom he introduced as his nephew. “What happens now?” whispered Temia. “Well, normally, Mrs. Sebright comes in and talks to us and then she goes into a trance.”
Then a tall woman in flowing robes walked in and every movement she made was graceful and deliberate, almost as if she was on a stage.
Her long red hair flowed loosely down her back and was held in place by a folded scarf around her forehead. She sat down at the table.
“I can feel the spirits around me – ” she sighed. She looked round the table and saw Temia.
“You have not been here before, have you, young lady?” she asked, fixing Temia with her golden eyes.
“No, it is my first time,” she answered nervously.
“We shall say a prayer and join hands. Then if there is a spirit who wishes to speak to someone here, he or she will make themselves known to me. Through me, they will speak. Don’t be afraid, they will not harm you. All I ask is that no one leaves the room before the seance has ended.”
Sophia took Temia’s hand and squeezed it. Mrs. Sebright closed her eyes and lifted her face up to Heaven. She said a prayer and then, raising her voice, she exhorted the spirits to come close. She then stared into the middle distance and concentrated on an invisible spot.
All the while, her assistant, a younger woman who had entered the room during the prayer, stood by waiting.
Temia watched fascinated as she muttered under her breath. All of a sudden, she sat bolt upright and rolled her eyes u
p into her head.
“Jarvis, Jarvis!” she growled, her voice becoming masculine and rasping. “Why did you not take Bessie to the country as I asked?”
The elderly gentleman turned pale.
“Are you Jarvis?” asked the assistant.
“Yes,” whispered the man, hoarsely. Temia could see that he was quite clearly agitated.
“This is Horace! Take Bessie to the country, she’s too old to be in the town!” bellowed Mrs. Sebright, her features creasing and contorting.
“Can you understand?” asked the assistant. The old man nodded.
“Horace is my dear brother and Bessie is his horse. Horace! I will have her sent to the estate in Camberley at once!” he shouted. “Good, good,” muttered Mrs. Sebright. “There are more spirits – there’s a young man who wants to speak, but he is shy. ‘Is my sister here?’ he keeps saying.”
The assistant looked around the room. “Is there anyone here with a brother on the other side?” she asked, searching each face intently.
Temia felt her stomach turn over. What if it was Jasper? She could not move or speak. She did not believe in such things after all – it could not be true!
“My friend does,” piped up Sophia, “but she’s shy.”
Mrs. Sebright bowed her head for a moment and, when she lifted it, Temia gasped out loud for her face was transformed into the smooth features of a young man. She recognised at once the sensitive expression and soft curve of his cheek.
“My little Tia. You must warn our father – he is in great danger! This man, the Lord, who is blackmailing him, will stop at nothing! Your flight has been in vain.”
“What can I do?” cried Temia out loud. She half-rose out of her chair, eyes staring wildly and tears coursing down her cheeks. “Please sit down, miss – Mrs. Sebright cannot have the circle broken,” called the assistant. “You must address the young man directly if you seek an answer.”
“Jasper – darling, is that you?” quavered Temia.
“It is, my dear sister,” came the disembodied voice.
It was as faint as the wind in the trees – almost a half-whisper. “The evidence lies in Hanwell,” it continued, “the man who told you this spoke the truth, but it is not he you will marry, even though he has marriage in mind. No, you will in the end wed the one whose pain will cause him to mortally wound his best friend!”
They Touched Heaven Page 7
